Determination
by KeatsLove
Summary: Lady Edith is determined not to give up on Sir Anthony - no matter how much he thinks she should.


DETERMINATION

De·ter·mi·na·tion. Firmness of purpose or resolve. Mary may have the title of first born with all that comes with it, and Sybil the sort of beauty and vitality that makes all who see her fall in love, but I have determination. It's a useful sort of skill to have. Of late, since the war, my determination has been focused on Sir Anthony Strallan. I suppose I never quite lost my determination in regards to him, though it was dormant for so long. Pre-war seems an eternity ago with everything we've seen and survived since.

Today, my particular brand of determination has me arriving unannounced at his estate around tea time. Unladylike, perhaps, but with Sir Anthony unannounced visits always give me the upper hand because he is far, far too polite to turn me out in the cold when I appear on his front stoop.

Sir Anthony stands when his butler announces me properly. His arm is in that horrid sling which means it must be troubling him today. Some days are better than others. He may even have feeling return like Mathew did, though he is always quick to remind me not to hope too terribly much for that. He's not young like the other wounded soldiers so unable to heal as quickly or completely as they.

"Really, Lady Edith, we must stop meeting like this" There's humor to his words and expression, though I know he means to be firm. "What would your parents say to you showing up unannounced like a common town girl?"

"My parents are far, far too busy tending to Sybil in her delicate condition and planning Mary and Mathew's nuptials to care much what I do," I say. I remove my hat to make clear I intend to stay.

"Would you care to join me for tea?" he asks out of formality. I can always count on him to remember proper etiquette. I use it to my advantage.

"Yes, thank you, what a lovely idea."

A maid quickly brings a second tea cup, saucer, and cutlery and sets is across from Sir Anthony's place at the low tea table. We sit. I pour without being asked. He stirs his tea awkwardly with his good hand. I resist the urge to offer help since no one enjoys being treated like an invalid – especially someone as noble and determined as Sir Anthony. See, we are alike in that regard. While I may be determined to pick up our courtship where it left off, he is just as determined to set me free. I suppose one side shall have to give in eventually, and I refuse for it to be me. He called me lovely. I won't let that go un-pursued.

"How are your sisters?" he asks after managing to get his tea cup to his mouth and back down again. His wounded arm is his favored arm, so he's practically had to relearn everything with his left or request help since returning home.

"Quite well and infinitely busy as always," I say. "Mama insists on Sybil resting which drives her absolutely batty. Mary is up to her eyes in wedding planning. Mathew wishes to elope, but they can't deny everyone the chance to enjoy the wedding so. . .on with the show. We haven't seen this much activity in Downton since the war." I frown slightly. "Well, unless you consider the Spanish Flu epidemic but the less we dwell on that, the better."

"And you have time to go gallivanting across country without chaperone to visit me?"

"I always have time to visit you."

He looks into his tea cup, perhaps unsettled by my boldness. "You know what I've told you about such behavior. Forget about me, meet a nice chap at your sister's wedding, and go on with your life. You have a life left to live, mine is more than half over."

"But you are the nicest chap I know," I insist. "And I shan't give up on you just because you tell me to. Once upon a time, I believe you were going to ask me to marry you. I can't forget that. I won't forget that."

"That garden party seems an age ago," he sighs.

"Six years," I say. "Not so very long ago. Not long enough for me to forget it _or _you, Sir Anthony."

"You're lovely – both inside and out – and deserve much better than being saddled with the likes of me."

"On the contrary, nothing would please me more than being your partner for life. Your wife. I can't think of a lovelier thing in all the world."

"I. . ." He shakes his head. "Nothing I say will persuade you otherwise, will it?"

"Nothing."

Sir Anthony is silent for a little longer than I prefer, turning my stomach into a restless knot of butterflies, before he suddenly looks up with a smile.

"Well, Lady Edith, I best speak to your father about properly courting you, if you'll have me."

"If I'll have you?" I launch myself at him, which has the effect of overturning the tea table, but settling me nicely in his lap with his good arm around my waist. "Oh, you silly, stubborn, horribly determined man, there is no one I want _but_ you!"


End file.
